Perilous Predicaments
by firejazzcats
Summary: A routine hunting trip takes a drastic turn for the worse when bandits capture Camelots crown prince.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Merlin.

"Stupid, untidy manservant" Arthur snorted huffily. "I give him one task, just one and he forgets I even asked." Sighing indignantly, he spurred his horse further into the shadowy woods in hopes of spotting an animal worthy of being hunted. Peering through his blond fringe, and seeing nothing, he rode forward again, hoping a mystical, rare creature would be found further in the dark forest. The steady sound of hoof beats crunching in freshly fallen leaves plunged Arthur into his thoughts once more.

Merlin wasn't daft, Arthur knew that from experience. When the situation called for it the boy could be quite quick on his feet. Why he would then disobey a direct order from the prince to muck out the stables, was beyond him. Granted, Arthur relented slightly, the boy had been looking worn and tired these past couple of days; and yes maybe double sword practice with the best knight in Camelot was a little cruel, but Arthur couldn't afford to baby Merlin. Life was tough, and Merlin would have to learn to deal with fatigue and stress if he ever was going to mature, maybe he acquiesced, he could go a little easier…

The sound of his horses panicked neighing snapped the prince out of his reverie. Slowly, precisely Arthur looked around. His horse had been trained by the best; and if she was whinnying it meant they were both in serious distress. For several moments Arthur gazed at his surroundings; sword drawn and prepared for an imminent attack. More time slipped by and Arthur gradually relaxed. Despite his horses frantic pleas Arthur saw nothing out of the ordinary in the dank woods. The foliage was perhaps thicker than usual, and he didn't immediately recognize his location; but there was nothing that he sensed as a threat. Breathing a sigh of relief Arthur dropped his gauntlet- held sword in his holster and turned towards Camelot. There were never any decent animals to kill in these woods. Throwing back his shoulders and resuming the reigns Arthur directed his horse onward. When she remained frozen in place he used his spurs, and when that didn't work he looked up; just in time to see an arrow zooming from above, and then landing… directly in his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to the show Merlin, or whatever else is associated with our red scarfed friend.

"Nnnng" Arthur resumed consciousness with a very un-prince like groan. Blearily he forced his heavy eyes open, trying in vain to focus his eyesight. It took a while to recapture his bearings, but when he finally did, he almost wished he hadn't. Arthur, prince of Camelot, sat forcibly tied to the trunk of a very large tree. His mouth was stuffed with a soiled tasting rag, and his hands were bound so tight the ropes had begun to chafe at his wrists. Despite his predicament, curiosity over took him and he craned his neck in order to examine his surroundings.

Directly in front of him, towards the center of what appeared to be a campground, a large fire was raging. On top of the flames a lone black kettle was steaming and releasing the pleasant odor of cooking stew or soup. Caravans were set up around the fire pit, and a makeshift horse stable was constructed behind them; Arthur's stomach dropped when he noticed his mare wasn't one of the horses tied in the stables. Unable to glean any information about his captors from their run-of the mill campground, Arthur groaned aloud. The style of the caravans was extremely ordinary, to the point of inconspicuousness, no weapons were visible, and the only clue offered was the odd placement of the camp; no commoner would pitch their tent in deep woods where wild creatures were liable to harm them.

"Fugitives then", he thought to himself, tugging futilely at his ropes; "It must be fugitives". Arthur struggled some more until exhausted he slumped forward, having learned that no amount of wriggling would loosen his bonds.

Night fell quickly for Arthur, and with the darkness came increased anxiety and panic. He had yet to see hide or tail of his captors, and their absence scared him as much as their presence would. He'd given up on the fantasy of escaping his ties while the fugitives were away. The bonds were impossibly tight; and perhaps reinforced with magic. Arthur was sure normal ropes would have loosened slightly after his bone wearying efforts. Arthur wondered why he was being held; didn't these people know the price of harming the crown prince was certain death?

The unmistakable ringing of laughter brought Arthur's attention abruptly forward. He scanned the campground, not noticing any sign of life. Looking farther left, however, Arthur saw a beam of light bobbing through the deep foliage in the woods. He gulped nervously, his captors were returning then.

The sound of heavy footfall drew closer and closer to the camp, and not three minutes had passed when Arthur spotted a shaggy head appearing out of the woods. Along with the first, four more men stepped into the camp, and resumed their laughter and good-humor. The men all looked to be family. Each shared an identical messy brown head of hair, and rugged features. Arthur appraised the state of their clothing to be equal to that of a peasant, or poor villager. The men did not look particularly dangerous, their ragged state of dress and lack of any real weapons, although each carried a small dagger, was extremely un-intimidating. Arthur smirked through his gag, maybe he would escape heroically after all.

"And look what we have here, boys". The tallest man, and Arthur presumed, leader of the group gestured and began walking toward the prince.

"Thought you'd never wake up, son", the man smiled, revealing four gap-teeth." Of course Roger did do a number on you with that bow o' his". The man identified as Roger had the gall to shuffle and look sheepish. The man continued. Ignoring Arthur's muffled growl. "Luckily had some of that magic powder left and we was able to patch you up new. Although you were out for some time; three days spent sleeping like a babe", "Anyway", the man waved his hand casually; "better late than never I 'spose."

The fugitive was so close now Arthur could smell his unwashed clothing; and the reek of alcohol on his breath. Feeling audacious Arthur moved under his bonds and yelled as fiercely as his gag would allow.

"Aw come on now pet", the man reached out and stroked Arthur's head, causing him to flinch, "We won't hurt you". He continued petting Arthur's hair. "We're just a wee tight on money right now; figure the king will give a pretty penny to get his nice blue-eyed baby back." At this declaration, all five men nodded cheerily.

Stepping back from the boy the criminal continued his monologue. "My name is Bryan by the way, Bryan Jennings the third. These are my brothers, well you already met Roger," he said indicating the fattest of the three men. "And then there's Dewey" The skinny man on the far left waved, "Jensen", Bryan said pointing at the shortest and fiercest looking man. "And last, but not least, Stephen." The youngest of the men gave Arthur a menacing smile.

"Well now that introductions are out o' the way, why don't we explain yer side in all o' this? Hm..?" Bryan patted Arthur's cheek. "All you 'ave, to do my boy, is write to yer Father. Tell him Bandits got you and are holding you ransom for…," Bryan paused a moment, "Ten thousand gold pieces. Tell him Stephen will await the payment at dawn for four weeks, on the eastern outskirt of the forest. Oh and I almost forgot… Tell him if he hasn't paid within the month, we'll kill you."

Arthur's eyes went wide and he paled considerably. Four weeks with these mongrels. It would be intolerable, and his father. What would he say regarding Arthur's capture? The prince closed his eyes, imagining the scenario.

"_You let yourself be captured by bandits." Uther's booming voice would ring out, and he would gaze disapprovingly over his nose, his voice almost a snarl. "I thought I'd trained you better, but apparently my own son isn't the knight I thought him to be"_

Arthur snapped himself back into the present with a jerk. It wouldn't do to dwell on the future when his current situation was so abysmal.

"So what will it be boy", Bryan asked gruffly, "will you cooperate readily or do you need some…persuasion?"

Arthur moaned through the cloth trying to speak. After a moment of this it seemed like Bryan realized his attempts at answering would be useless, and he yanked the gag at of the prince's mouth.

"So boy….." Bryan began

Arthur took a second, cleared his throat, and then lifted his chin. "I don't cooperate with beasts like you"

Bryan looked disappointed, and his shoulders slumped slightly. After a moment however his eyes lit up with a new fire. "No matter son, Dewey will forge the letter, and as fer you, well I got something real special planned." Bryan's malicious chuckling sparked the others laughter. Soon a chorus of deep rolling laughs echoed throughout the forest.

Arthur felt anything but amused.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin

"Looks like Daddy don't care as much as you thought, huh princey." Jensen looked up from sharpening his dagger, and leveled Arthur with a cruel glare before returning to his work. "Of course, considering yer a royal pain in the rear, it's not surprising he doesn't want ya." Jensen stood up from the log he was sitting on and stretched, his dagger glinting in the moonlight."Stephen tol' me he talked with yer Father yesterday. Said yer daddy wants us to keep ya. Be doing him a favor, I think those were his words." Jensen shuffled over and pressed his dagger against Arthur's neck, just hard enough to make the prince squirm uneasily. Arthur hated when it was Jensen's turn to guard him. The shortest and stockiest of the fugitives; he had an enormous capacity for cruelty and hate. More than once Jensen left Arthur with a bloody nose, and a torso bruised a deeper red than his tunic.

"I know yer kind too well", Jensen muttered aggravated, sheathing his knife, "all bravado and no game. Your Daddy talks big, but when it comes down to saving his only son, where is he then, huh? " Arthur shifted indignantly, angrily clenching his fists, until his knuckles were white, and his biceps flexed against his bonds painfully. Jensen noticed this, and smirked. "Or maybe", he said smiling at the boy and then fluidly cutting the ropes which held him captive "you do have some fight".

As soon as his ties were released Arthur dropped weakly to the ground. Six days spent sedated and tied to a tree, did nothing for body strength, and without his bonds holding him upright, he slouched pathetically forward. His arms were heavy and awkward, but eventually he pushed himself into a more dignified sitting position. Sparing a glance up, he noticed Jensen glaring at him with a predatory gleam in his eyes. The man was obviously yearning for a fight. Using the tree to support himself, Arthur stood shakily and then fumblingly removed his gag.

"Yer tougher than ya look pretty boy", Jensen stated roughly. "Most men aren't able to stand after being drugged as heavily as you 'ave. So come on then" Jensen waved him forward, "make old' Uther proud."

Arthur's drug-laden brain was unable to form a verbal retort; so he opted for a physical response. Lifting his fists, he slowly moved his sore body into a fighting position. Jensen recognized the Prince's actions and mirrored Arthur's stance. Within seconds both men were exchanging blows. Jensen swung first, his arm jerking out sloppily and missing his intended mark, by a mile. He frustratedly swore, and then once again punched his fist. Arthur noted the man's obvious inexperience with a sigh, if he was in normal health Jensen would be an easy victory; as it was though, despite Jensen's lack of skill the man was strong, stronger than Arthur. Too weak to initiate offensive attacks Arthur barely upheld his fragile defense. The dewy forest ground presented its own problem, and Arthur was doubtful he could last in this battle much longer. Though injured and fatigued, Arthur miraculously managed to keep fighting. For a while a dangerously predictable series of blows and counters ensued, until Jensen suddenly, arrogantly, dropped his guard and sneered down at the prince.

"Horrible boy, just horrible," Jensen mocked. "What would your father say now, huh, the best fighter in Camelot unable to land a single blow." The fugitive laughed as Arthur struggled to stay upright. "Tell you what boy" Jensen cackled " I'm feeling generous today", at this he brushed himself off and dropped his fists, "so… you can have a free shot, anywhere you want" At Arthur's skeptical expression. Jensen placed his palms forward in a symbol of honesty.

Arthur coughed a bit, clearing his throat, and then straightening his back. "Anywhere", he gasped hoarsely.

Jensen nodded. "Anywhere."

"Crack" the sound of bone breaking was clearly heard throughout the forest. Arthur's fist quickly retracted, and he watched as Jensen coughed and sputtered on the ground; clutching his offending jaw. Arthur was finally offered a chance to escape,and he wouldn't let this opportunity pass. Ignoring his screaming muscle and drug-induced exhaustion, Arthur started sprinting. He ran fast and hard, adrenaline spurring him past the bland caravans, horse stables, and the unmistakable sounds of footfall behind him. He reached the forest edge, and continued darting forward. Despite the thick roots and grasses that obstructed his path, Arthur was able to maintain a decent pace. His only concern was the bright red of his tunic, which contrasted with the dark green of the woods. Never breaking stride, he removed his crimson top, and continued.

An hour of solid running passed before Arthur felt safe enough to sit. It had been miles back since the sound of footsteps became tired thuds, and then vanished completely. Although nervousness still ate at his stomach, he felt that his situation was not dire anymore, so he stood, and continued on in a brisk, though unsteady, walk; praying to god that he was headed in the right direction.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

Merlin paced nervously up and down the floors of his living quarters. The time was nearly an hour past midnight, but Merlin had no intention of sleeping. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, and then shook his head; it would be unfair to rest when Prince Arthur was in such desperate circumstances. Merlin had spent nine days in this pattern of lethargy and worry; his conscience not allowing him rest until Arthur's safety was assured. Merlin yearned to run into the forest and save the prince, but King Uther had ordered against it. He had said any action taken to retrieve Arthur would be assumed as a threat to the bandits, and the Prince would be killed immediately. So, the citizens of Camelot were forced to wait idly, as the king collected the gold from his vaults in eastern Albion; nearly a week long horse ride away.

"You look like an old man, when you shuffle around so tiredly, Merlin" Gaius's caring face entered Merlin's line of sight unexpectedly; because of his worried musings he'd not heard he physician open his door, and enter his messy room.

"Keeps my mind off things, walking around", Merlin stated with a barely suppressed yawn. Gaius looked disbelieving and he strode towards Merlin, guiding the still dressed teen onto his unused bed.

"I would have to politely disagree with your statement", Gaius countered calmly, placing a comforting arm around the boy, and then extracting a phial from a deep pocket on his nightgown. "Not resting, tends to keep your mind _on_ things", the alchemist nudged the small beaker into Merlin's hand.

"What's in here", Merlin asked, twirling the bottle softly in his palm. Gaius smiled gently down at him. "It's a mild sleeping draught; I know you are worried about Arthur, but this potion will calm your mind and allow you to rest easily."

Merlin looked longingly at the round bottle before handing it back to Gaius. "It- it wouldn't be fair Gaius! Arthur is out there alone, injured."Merlin broke off suddenly and looked down, his uncombed hair falling in his eyes. "I won't do it anymore Gaius." Merlin began, his voice rising in frustration, "I will not stand by while my friend is tortured." He clenched his jaw angrily. "Tomorrow," Merlin started, raising his eyes to meet the physicians. "I will go after Arthur".

Gaius nodded, solemnly agreeing. He handed the vial back to Merlin, and patted his leg, "You'll need your rest, then."

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Arthur limped past the large, crooked oak tree for the third time this hour. Despite his initial progress, Arthur now found himself undoubtedly… "Lost", the blond haired teen exclaimed in distress. "How in the world does a person escape this damn forest"? Plopping down on a nearby tree stump Arthur heaved a sigh; his only consolation was the small, nearly brackish, pond he'd found less than a mile back. "At least", he muttered, "I won't die of dehydration". His stomach twisted and rolled rudely, starvation was another matter entirely.

Kicking his foot in annoyance, Arthur once again rose, and started forward, this time heading down a dark looking path he dared not enter before. At first his stride was faltering and nervous; the gloom of the trees and the strange ominous noises putting him on guard. After a time though, he fell into a rhythm, and the noises he once thought dangerous became a chorus of typical forest wildlife. What was more, almost an hour had passed, and Arthur had yet to pass that annoying, knobby oak. Keeping a solid, yet draining pace, the prince soon reached a place in the woods he was semi-familiar with. Though rarely used, Arthur would occasionally ride out this way for navigation practice with his knights.

Smiling delightedly he dropped to his knees, almost kissing the known ground. He was still far, but he knew that eventually he'd be home in Camelot. He stayed in this position for a while, resting his muscles and enjoying the soft, leaf covered forest floor. Content to fall asleep in this place, Arthur had to visibly shake himself out of his reverie. Nightfall was approaching quickly, and to his east thunder roared. Without a shelter, or even tunic, Arthur knew surviving this unseasonably cold day would be unlikely. Shuddering slightly at the prospect of death by rainstorm, Arthur began frantically scanning the area for a shelter. After moments of searching, and being faced with the same tall trees and damp wood, Arthur decided moving forward was his only option. If he ran, there was a chance, a slim chance he could outrun the rainstorm, or at the least, find shelter.

The prospect of running was an unattractive thought, to say the least. His muscles, sore and weak from abuse, already maintained a constant tremor; and his torso was laced with so many bruises and cuts, the slightest twitch of his chest made his eyes water. In spite of this he was nothing but determined, so he hitched himself up, groaning audibly, and propelled his body forward, trying in vain to focus solely on the warm bath that would greet him upon his return.

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Merlin had left to find Arthur well before dawn, and though he only slept a few hours, an energy potion from Gaius ensured his alertness. Now he found himself walking quickly through a deep part of Camelot's, western woods. Merlin didn't mind the walk at all; In fact he relished the cheery sounds of wildlife, and the hum of natural energy. Perhaps the magic coursing through his veins enhanced his connection with the wild. He paused for a second and his nose twitched slightly, smelling an oncoming rainstorm. He noted the lowering sun as well, and decided now would be an opportune time to build camp, start a fire, and eat his dinner.

An hour or so later Merlin's chores were finished, and he sat down near the happily roaring fire pit, to look over Gaius's map once more.

"_The bandit camp is located to the east, Merlin," at this __Gaius__ pointed a finger at a particularly dense shrouding of trees. "You", he gazed at Merlin seriously;"would do well to stay away from there for as long as possible". _

"_But __Gaius__" Merlin announced confused "If I don't head East how will I reach Arthur?" __Gaius__ shuffled a bit in mock exasperation. "Daft boy", he tapped the teen's skull playfully. "You must, of course, arrive at the bandit camp eventually. But I, for one, don't want you to be murdered when you barge __expectedly__ into their clutches .No no", __Gaius__ shook his head, "the east will not do". He quieted before continuing. "You will come in from the North. There is a path few travel on beginning in the Western part of the woods. It is windy and oppressing but it poses no real threat." He looked at Merlin until the boy nodded to show his understanding. "Once the path ends, you will be five or so miles from the eastern part of the woods. The camp is hidden, so you will have to navigate by yourself". Merlin looked disquieted at this, but shook his head in confirmation. _

"_I'm ready __Gaius__", he stated, fidgeting slightly with his shirt. The physician stared at him fondly before embracing the boy in a soft hug. Merlin turned to leave, but Gaius's voice halted him. He spun around and faced his mentor, smiling slightly._

_Gaius__, looked once more at the teen, before clearing his throat emotionally, "Do be careful Merlin"._

_Merlin beamed down at him, "Aren't I always?"_

Munching on a hunk of cheese, Merlin looked over the map. His route for tomorrow was fairly simple. He'd hike straight ahead until he reached the dark path marked with a circle on his chart; he would follow that path until it ended, at which point he would stop for the night, and then save Arthur the next morning.

Content with tomorrow's schedule, Merlin doused the fire, climbed into his leather tent, and awaited the rainstorm that was now imminent.

The inside of his tent was cozy, and warm. Merlin had situated it close to the fire, and the light from the flames danced playfully on the back wall. Yawning, he carefully spread his sleeping mat on the floor, and crawled inside; wrapping his covers tightly around his body. Merlin was asleep before the first drop of rain fell.

"Crash", Merlin awoke with a start several hours later, the rainstorm was at its peak now, and the booms of the thunder were continuing in a succinct, scary beat. He clutched his covers closer around him, and tried to ignore the pitch blackness he was immersed in. "It's just thunder," he chastised himself. "No need to be a baby". Merlin listened to the pounding of rain for a few moments more, before lying back down. "Crunch", Merlin shot back up immediately. That sound was _decidedly_ abnormal, rain didn't sound like…"Crunch". Merlin breathed heavily, sweat trickling down his face, and stomach clenching in fear... something was outside of his tent.


End file.
